


in a father’s hands

by Hiniwalay



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Childhood Trauma, F/M, Family, Father Figures, Hakoda is a good dad, Hakuddles, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot, One-sided Azula/Hakoda, Ozai’s A+ Parenting, Unrequited Crush, but endgame is and will always be, dadkoda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24462013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiniwalay/pseuds/Hiniwalay
Summary: Azula is drawn to Hakoda, but she doesn’t make things easy.
Relationships: Azula & Hakoda (Avatar), Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 230





	in a father’s hands

**Author's Note:**

> So you know how we all love Hakoda Adopts the Fire Sibs fics? And you know how in The Beach episode, Azula kisses that one self-assured guy with the tan skin and brown hair and whose “arms look so... strong”?
> 
> Ah. Aha. Ahahaha.
> 
> This happened.
> 
> Read if you dare.

He is tall. Exceedingly so, and his brown hair puffs around his face and beard in a strange style. His cheekbones are broad, and his eyes are lined. The scars littering his arms tell her that he has been to battle without armor and survived.

Unlike her father, Azula thinks, who hid behind a wall of fire on his throne. Unlike Ozai, who made others fight his battles, and returned from his one failed conquest with neither dignity nor scar of his own.

* * *

He is a good father. It hits her whenever she sees him laughing along with his son or hanging around his daughter for no other apparent reason than to spend time with her. He listens to them talk, gives them encouragement and kind corrections, and makes jokes so bad that Azula does not bother to roll her eyes. And yet, though he does everything Ozai taught her made a person weak, his children are among the most accomplished of their time.

She learns that the lines around his eyes are not all from stress or the weather. They are also from booming laughter and warm smiles.

It’s strange, she thinks, that even though his eyes are blue, they are never as cold as the gold of Ozai’s.

* * *

He is a great leader. Bloodline carries no right to authority in the Southern Water Tribe, yet people follow him without question. He does not threaten, he does not raise his voice. Still, obedience is prompt and thorough. Sometimes she thinks him a fool to trust and forego fear as a motivator. The results speak for themselves.

They follow him because they want to. They hold him in high esteem.

It is not as magnifiable as being born into the throne. But, Azula thinks as she watches him, it doesn’t have to be.

* * *

He meets her eyes when he addresses her. He does not flinch when she makes a predatory smile.

She is Princess Azula, Wielder of the Cold Fire and the Once-Mad Princess, and High Chief Hakoda, King of the Seven Seas, does not fear her.

* * *

“What was your mother like?”

Katara nearly drops her two-year-old daughter. Azula expected that reaction; she almost never addresses her sister-in-law with a question that is not flippant or a taunt. Azula never talks to her about sentimental topics at all.

Katara hesitates, adjusting her grip on little rosy-skinned Kya. It is a namesake; Azula listened enough to Zuko’s babbling to know that much. Kya lifts her chubby hands towards Azula, and Katara finally answers. “My mother was brave, strong, and kind. _Endlessly_ kind.”

Azula is two of those three things, but she will never be kind.

* * *

“Princess Azula,” Chief Hakoda greets as he enters the hallway she was walking in. She stops and allows him to catch up, which doesn’t take long with his tall stature. He dips his head but does not bow. Bows are unbefitting from the leader of a nation to the spare heir of another, no matter how small his tribe is.

Besides. His daughter had married her brother. By law, the chief was technically some sort of father figure.

Ugh.

“Chief Hakoda,” she responds, a mask of politeness on her face. Her usual disdain or indifference would not suit her purposes, no. Better politeness, perhaps curiosity, for this first time they speak alone. “This is the second time this year that you’ve visited.”

He shrugs. “It gets lonely back home without my children.”

“Yet you have not remarried.”

“No.”

“Nor found any significant others?”

“I only have one significant other.”

“Your wife is _dead_.”

His blue gaze turns fierce on her. Azula’s heart skips a beat. “To this world, yes. Never to me.”

* * *

She tells herself she is doing this because she wants to see if she can tempt him.

It’s a hollow victory to win against a woman long gone. Still, Azula refuses to lose. There is a gala tonight, and she is prepared. She goes to the spa and instructs her maidservants to finely powder her cheeks and delicately paint her eyelids with smoky kohl. When her hair is done into an intricate updo, she steps into her newly tailored dress. It is long-sleeved and floor-length like all palace event dresses are. Unlike them, it is violet. Fit and sheer in all the right places, with a slit running up her burnished leg.

Azula is always beautiful, but tonight, she is _stunning_.

Everyone in the vicinity turns to look at her when she enters through the grand doors. That in itself is not new, but the gleam of interest most of men’s eyes is. She softens her smirk and makes her way proudly and gracefully to the gathering of blue by the refreshments side.

The men of the Water Tribes stare at her openly. Chief Hakoda swallows. Her smile grows sharp. Their eyes meet for half a second.

He looks away, and she feels cold.

* * *

She does not give in. For as much as Zuko struggled more through all his challenges, Azula is as relentless as he is.

She spars with her brother when the chief is around, displaying her excellence and her newfound sportsmanship.

She sidles up to him when they are in the same room and brushes his hand at mealtimes.

She tells him to drop the “Your Highness” and “Princess” and calls him “Hakoda”.

* * *

He finds her alone in the old war room, no servants sneaking around to eavesdrop here. He begins the conversation casually, as if there is nothing amiss. She admires his attempt at subtlety, but she has been playing this game since she was born. No one ever bests her at it.

After an engaging but merely pleasant conversation on subterfuge tactics and men-at-arms training, she sighs. She tells him that this has been interesting, but she really has no time to waste on pleasantries. She makes her way to the door behind him and pats his arm dismissively as she passes.

He takes hold of her hand, gently. “Azula, what are you doing?”

She raises a dainty brow, painting an unfazed picture of herself even when her pulse is pounding in his rough, calloused fingers. “Doing? What makes you think I am _doing_ anything, Hakoda?” She wants to hear him say it, hear that she has gotten under his skin, hear that she is _wanted_ by him.

None of that is what he says. What he says is, “If you wanted my attention, you could have just asked.”

 _What_.

She tears her hand away, scraping him with her nails in the process. “I don’t want your pity,” she hisses. This is the worst possible outcome, and she is not prepared for it.

“You’re my daughter-in-law, Azula. Is it a crime to be concerned?”

“I’m not,” she says adamantly. “ _Zuko_ is your in-law. _We_ are not related.”

“You’re his sister. That’s good enough for me.”

She snarls and turns to stalk away. “It’s always Zuko, isn’t it!”

He catches her wrist. She grows angry at herself for letting her breath catch with it.

“Azula,” Hakoda says and pulls her closer till they are a foot away. He has to bend to meet her eyes. “This is not about Zuko. It’s about you.”

Azula does not quite remember what happened next except that she was on her tiptoes and her mouth was crushed to his.

She does remember the feeling of softness and warmth disappearing. Hakoda lurches back, wide-eyed. He lifts a hand disbelievingly to his lips, lips that probably have not been touched in a very long time. Then, he turns and runs, and Azula is left alone.

* * *

“So,” says Sokka, the annoying one. He sits down on the grass beside her. “My dad was pretty shaken this morning. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I know he had been looking for you.”

“I kissed him,” says Azula, not shifting her eyes from the turtleducks. The pond seems murky this afternoon.

“I know you don’t care about—” Sokka pauses. “What?” He lifts a hand to his neck and laughs nervously. “For a second there I thought you said—”

“I kissed him,” says Azula firmly, and turns directly to Sokka. Unlike Hakoda, she is not going to hide.

He gapes. “Oh.” His hands fidget. “Wow.” Blue eyes, so like Hakoda’s, cast about uncomfortably. “You realize he’s not over Mom, right?”

“Well, he should be.”

At this, Sokka frowns. “But he’s not. Azula, you don’t get to push him like that.”

She laughs scathingly. “Says the guy who fell out of touch with his _steady_ girlfriend.”

“I still have more experience than you do. Trust me, Azula, it doesn’t work.”

She waves a lazy hand through the air. “You’re only discouraging me because you’re uncomfortable with the idea of your father getting with someone as old as your sister.”

He grimaces. “Of course I am. That doesn’t make it the only reason.”

* * *

“Princess Azula,” Hakoda says, rubbing his weathered face with wide palms. He is on the sofa, where he was reading when she invited herself through his guest room door. As far as her attendants or any servants know, she is in the library, not to be disturbed. Hakoda’s fingers run through his coarse brown hair. “I am _twice_ your age.”

“One and nine-elevenths,” she corrects, legs crossed on the silken bed and one arm supporting her weight. Really, it was his fault for avoiding her all day. “Less than, if you factor in the months. I have been a grown woman for years, Hakoda. I would appreciate it if you treat me like one.”

“Azula...”

She flicks her hair, which hangs free and loosely down her back. “If you don’t like me, say it. That does not mean I will let you go that easily.”

“You’ll have to turn yourself into someone else to please me romantically. That’s not what you want.”

It is nothing less than she expected, but it still hurts to hear.

“Then,” she says, gliding to her feet and prowling to the sofa. His eyes are glued firmly to the carpet, which means he’s not looking at her as she slowly sits beside him. Her fingers alight on his tense bicep. She lowers her voice. “What if it doesn’t have to be romantic? What if I can simply...” she leans forward, allowing her robe to dip _just_ so, and whispers in his ear, “give you what you _want?_ ”

He catches her hands before they can touch his face and thigh. There is nothing gentle about his grip this time.

His jaw is as set as stone. “No. That is not what _either_ of us want.”

Her face grows stormy, but deep down, Azula feels relief overwhelm her lungs.

* * *

Zuzu eyes her over training refreshments.

“What?” she snaps.

He puts down his drink of pineapple-mango. The ice cubes clink lightly on the way. “Sokka told me what happened.”

“Great.” Azula does not slam her glass onto the table, but it is a near thing. “I suppose you’ll tell me to back off?”

“Not if Chief Hakoda doesn’t tell you first.”

“Well,” she says bitterly. “He did.”

Zuko folds his hand over her own. Azula lets him. His pulse is calm as he tells her, “I know what it feels like. And I can see why you like him.”

“I don’t _like_ him. I think his achievements are acceptable.”

Zuko quirks a brow. “For you, that’s as good as declaring your undying love.”

“Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Dum-Dum.”

Her brother smiles. “Alright, Azula. I don’t.”

* * *

She watches him whenever he visits the palace or the royal family takes a trip to the South Pole. He tussles with the children, kisses Katara’s forehead, and gives Zuko bracing hugs.

Sometimes, she catches his eye, and he tries his best to smile.

Eventually, what she realizes was infatuation fades. He grows older. The lines on his face deepen unattractively. He gets less involved in politics and trains the next chief.

To a dead woman, she supposes, Azula can concede defeat.

* * *

“Azula,” he says one day, on one of their yearly visits to the Southern Water Tribe. Snow is falling lightly outside, and Zuko and the rest of their family are playing in the snow.

She plasters a pleasant smile onto her face. “Yes, Chief Hakoda?”

“I just...” He exhales, and a great cloud of mist escapes from his mouth. “I just wanted to say thank you. For respecting my wishes.”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Further relations between the royal family and the Water Tribes would have caused an implosion in the Earth Kingdom’s fragile sense of security.”

He laughs a startled, joyous sound that Azula feels thrilled to finally be causing. Then his face relaxes into a smile, a real one this time. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to start over," he says, holding out a mittened hand in that odd Water Tribe gesture. "As father-in-law and daughter.”

She has half a mind to refuse him and his well-meaning pity, but when she looks into his blue eyes, they are earnest and warm.

“Okay,” she tells him. She takes his hand.

Her pulse is calm in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hakoda, bless him, is a good dad.
> 
> That's it for my first one-shot! Assuming I don't do a follow-up. Feel free to critique and comment your thoughts. I honestly don't know much about the sensitive subject matter here, but it's a real thing where children try to find the love and validation they missed from their parents in other people. This can carry over in their relationships even into adulthood. Like what almost happened with Azula here, it can be damaging. Not all men are as compassionate and unfaltering as Hakoda.
> 
> I guess, if there's a message I want to leave you, it's to respect and take care of yourself. You may not feel that you are worth anything, but you are. There's always someone out there who will help you and love you with real love, even when human relationships fail us. And of course, to all the parents and guardians and parent-figures out there, definitely, _definitely_ take care of your children.
> 
> (Psst. Comments make my heart melt. Leave me a gift? x)


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